by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
a stab familiar down my arm
right arm
no fear
not pain alarm
and needles lance my spine, head, back
the hostage tied by wires to track
a throb and weakness
will not end
with age
decrepitude depend
but on my shoulders
burdensome
a length of wood
blood, sweat to come
I walk by You
and rest
You can
not do but fall
a broken Man
yet walk or drag and stumble face
down in mud made by tears Your grace
will hold me up as I move on
or float
as must
when strength is gone
the flesh that yields
my spirit raise
You shelter me, Love
endless days
through murk of blind electric jab
I see the nails You dear skin stab
and feel Your hands, blood salve for me
my Bridegroom holds me from the tree
